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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255559">Chlorophyll and Chloroform</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuBurrito/pseuds/OtakuBurrito'>OtakuBurrito</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Honey Bees and Botany [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, BDSM, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Cutting, Dark Comedy, Dark Past, Depression, Exhibitionism, F/M, I'll continue adding tags as I write, Interracial Relationship, Kink Exploration, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Major Character Injury, Non-Consensual Touching, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:54:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuBurrito/pseuds/OtakuBurrito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a gentle sweet botanist named Claudette provokes a killer whose apathy is bottomless, she learns that empathy is both a blessing and a curse. With a gift to feel the pain of others and understand their plights, Claudette must learn what it means to put herself first and go against her natural response to help others to escape a killer whose vicious web she's caught in. Michael, a cold-blooded, several times over, serial killer, finds her presence annoying as it directly contradicts his need for destruction and isolation. What will he do when the voices that have always lingered in his head since childhood, submit to the mere presence of the shy botanist? Will Michael ensnare her in his web, watching her trash around until her light dies our, or will Claudette prove she is the best thing to happen to him that was right to be saved for last.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claudette Morel/Jake Park, Claudette Morel/Michael Myers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Honey Bees and Botany [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990066</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Claudette had to leave. But she couldn't. She knew she'd be next if she dared move. What she saw before her was no man. It was a beast in human form. How deranged did someone have to be to not make a single sound when slaughtering someone. All the killers did something. Laughed, screamed, hell even took body parts and taunted survivors with them. She'd take Clown stomping in her skull and slicing off her fingers over this calm madness. At least it came from a place filled with deranged desire and a sick need to prove his worth and fuel a disgusting desire. This madness came from nothing more than doing a job as efficiently as possible and that's what made him so dangerous. It was pure insanity. He was literally slaughtering people hoping for a different outcome. Probably hoping to feel something but he continued to feel nothing. Just how evil and devoid of life did someone have to be to do nothing but slaughter and feel nothing from it? Not even once. How could anyone feel so cold and indifferent? Even when he killed Laurie he was devoid of any spark and he hunted her down more viciously than any of the other survivors. He truly did live up to his name. The Shape. Just an emotionless man whose only purpose was to take the shape of true evil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But despite her fear, Claudette had to look. She'd never get this opportunity again. Everyone understood the importance of seeing how a killer killed while not actually being killed. It was invaluable knowledge, understanding what type of person they were dealing with. Knowing just how cruel a killer was was key to survival. Certain killers like The Trapper, The Huntress, The Wraith, The Cannibal, and The Hillbilly were more merciful. Ensuring death was quick, the first blow hard, putting you into a state of bliss found only on the brink of death. The rest, just a show for the entity. The Nurse, while more vicious, understandably came from a place of hurt and rage but in the end, always remained almost loving when death overtook them. Each time she killed, she wept. Killers like The Nightmare and The Clown were crueler. Taking pleasure in both the chase and kill. Both used every dirty trick imaginable to ensure all the kills they could muster were there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette shook her head, pushing out all the intrusive thoughts. She had to focus. She had to watch. She peeked her head around the corner. Jake was still lifted into the air. Michael was staring. Staring into Jake's eyes with black voids, almost like he was asking if they would ignite something in him. One stab, deep, upward. He retracted the knife, not fully, another stab gave way. Jake's once green jacket began turning red as a strained wheeze failed to escape their lips as their windpipe was being crushed. Then came the snap. Louder than wood on a campfire. He stopped moving. Michael, tossed him to the side, unconcerned with how Jake fell or how he hit his head on the way down. Trash. That's what Claudette knew Michael thought as he threw Jake aside. He was nothing more than trash. Claudette's heart began to ache, threatening to break. On his way down, he hit their head on crates, cracking their skull wide open with a resounding snap of sure death. Blood spilling out, but more slowly, their heart no longer pumping. The Shape lifted his boots, smashing the skull in the blood-soaked dirt with a single decisive motion. That's when he turned towards the direction of her. Claudette covered her mouth, trying to hold in vomit. She was breathing heavily. She couldn't help it. Not after what she just saw. No matter how many times she saw death she never got used to it. Her heart just wasn't wired to handle actions so merciless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael stood still. He wasn't nearly as stupid as others thought him to be. He knew he was being watched. You didn't spend years stalking other people without knowing when someone was watching you. It made his skin burn. He hated people looking at him unless they were dying. Someone looking at you while you killed them couldn't be avoided. You had to look into their eyes and make sure the light was out. But the question as to who was watching him was another matter. He hadn't felt this gaze before. He knew the gazes of all his victims so this must be someone he hadn't personally slaughtered yet. So either a new survivor was among them or it was that annoying botanist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael didn't hate or feel anything for any of the survivors in particular. His sister was an exception as her mere presence got on his nerves, making his skin burn. But he chalked this up to sibling rivalry. After all, he has always been told it was normal that siblings fought and wanted to kill one another. Simple, bitter, sibling rivalry. Yet this botanist was a different kind of annoying. He could never find her. His height provided him many advantages but when it came to her in particular she was just so low to the ground he often walked right past her without noticing. She was the shortest out of all the survivors and one of the more quiet ones when in pain. The Huntress could also understand, often complaining that facing her threw her skills off because she constantly had to aim lower than normally. Other killers said hooking her was funny because her scream was one of the loudest. Michael had no interest in that, however. Hooking survivors meant they'd be saved and that'd mean that was more time he had to be around people. He detested people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when he dropped Jake to the ground he decided to have some fun. He could see her hand peeking out around the corner, pink nails against brown skin. That was one fact. He began to creep slowly, drinking in all of her features he could see from around the corner. As he made his way closer to the shack he smelled flowers. It was faint but he smelled flowers and grass. Also the smell of cotton and antiseptic. Years of being in an asylum had definitely burned that smell into his memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lightly moving, she knew he was coming. He stopped. Waiting to see what she'd do. He moved over behind the hill near the shack. Peering just enough to see her through the doorway. Every victim was unique. Some ran instantly, others hid, others faced killers head-on. He wanted to see just how she would react. He held his breath, listening to her action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Step. Step. Step. Steps on a wooden board. Another. Another. Another. Labored breaths. One, two, step, three fout. Step. Step. Step. A step on a creaky board.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait that wasn't right. Creaky boards were only found near the basement. Was this woman insane? Survivors do everything in their power to stay from down there. Countless trials with chests in the basement untouched, because the risk was far greater than the reward and the rewards, were great. And what chests held were great. Maps that could be used to send signals, medical kits that contained anti hemorrhage syringes and could be used to help others up even if everyone was forced to leave a person that was down. Perhaps she thought he'd left assuming she'd simply run away. He was going to enjoy this. This game would be over soon enough. He could use her to lure the others out to end this game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael walked into the shack. He knew what to expect. He'd walk downstairs and she'd run up. He'd catch her. She'd kick and scream demanding to be put down. She may escape if she stabbed him in the back and it threw him off but he'd be able to catch her in no time. Her tiny legs wouldn't take her far, adrenaline or not. He was ready for this to be over and to go back to his own realm without all the generators and noisy survivors. But what he saw before him actually stunned him. She was staring at him. Just stating. Her eyes weren't frantic, her breathing wasn't ragged, her hands were steady. But worse if all her eyes held no fear. Just determination that burned into his curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn't afraid of him. Was she the one who had witnessed him kill? He was fairly certain she was. So why wasn't she terrified? He took another step waiting for her to react. She didn't budge. He took another. She still wouldn't move. Was she in shock? Is that why she wasn't moving? But her eyes weren't wide nor empty. She was just there watching. Watching. That's what she was doing. Watching him. She knew she was dead. That she had no way of living. So she was watching him to take in everything she could about him before she died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the mask, he smirked. This was new to him. He felt a tinge on his skin and his heart began to race a bit. He'd let her go. She was new to him and highly unusual. He wanted to watch her a bit more before he killed her. Maybe he could learn something useful. And so Michael stepped to the side allowing her enough room to get by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette raised her eyebrow. Was he toying with her? Giving her false hope only to grab her as she ran past. She wasn't taking that chance. Every moment she spent distracting him was another moment her friends had to escape. Suddenly he took his knife and pointed upwards. Was he telling her to go? Suddenly, he took the knife and jammed it into the wall, splinters flying alongside a loud crack. He was letting her go. She ran, ran right past him, never looking back. She continued to run right down the patch veering off behind a rock out of his line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Claudette didn't look back Michael certainly watched her. He watched her, blocking out all other sounds, making sure he saw all he could as she ran past. She was short, brown, had pink nails, blue glasses, silver earrings that were circles. Her hair was like a bundle of sticks, pulled back by something blue. He couldn't tell what it was in the limited light. She wore a brown leather jacket, jeans, he counted 5 holes and brown boots. She had some kind of holster to her side. It held dressings and plants. Her shirt was brown. When she was right next to him she came up barely to his chest. She was smaller than he anticipated. No wonder he could never see her. He'd have to start looking down more when searching. She smelled like sweat, dried blood, grass, and flowers, cotton, and antiseptic. Her build was medium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael dislodged his knife from the wall, pulling it with quiet ease, and set out to find the rest of the survivors. He was sure she'd go right to them. He'd learn from other killers she was the one who was the most skilled at mending and stitching survivors back together. He knew he'd left the other two hurt so all he had to do was find a blood trail and follow it. He set out on the path but went the opposite way she did. He went straight for the wall. Survivors liked to be there when injured. Along walls and in back corners like a scared rabbit. He began looking along the space, searching for any scratch marks he could find. No such luck. He continued to search along the wall and then he spotted it. Part of a bandage and some blood. He touched it. Extremely fresh. They were near. He clutched his knife, readying it for attack. Then he heard it. A generator exploding. He turned, sprinting towards the sound. He saw her again. He'd only just let her go and she was already making trouble. She crouched low, her head sticking up over the generator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he gave this woman too much credit. It seems she was just another survivor not worth his time. He'd dispose of her soon enough. He reached for her, ready to strike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette had to buy her team some time. She knew Myers would be following her, trying to learn more about her, so she decided to give him a lot to study. She knew he saw her. That was the point as he approached she crossed two wires together and made the generator blow. He recoiled back and she took off. Michael smirked. It seemed like there was more to this one that meets the eye. He began to chase her. Hot on her heels. He lunged, he missed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right she was smaller. He'd have to aim downwards if he wanted to hit her. She turned, cutting through a cluster of trees. Michael had to go around. He was too tall and too big to fit through. She continued to run. Her panting became ragged. Ding. The familiar hum of a generator, but he didn't care. Chasing this one was far too much fun. He wanted to know what other tricks she had up her sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette was terrified. Not because she knew she'd probably die but because she might not give her friends enough time. It'd only been logical she'd distract him. He'd naturally have a hard time hitting her and he'd want to watch her to observe how to best kill her. Claudette was not seriously athletic even after being trapped in this hell hole. Her strengths lay in helping her team back on their feet and hiding in plain sight. But she had to do this if they stood a chance. His footsteps were so heavy and demanding. Practically screaming at her to come here. But she didn't dare listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael knew he had her. She was giving out. Just one more lunge and-</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He groaned in pain. She'd managed to slam a palette down on his head. But he doubted she'd be able to slam another. It probably took everything she had for that one. He pressed his foot down, stomping into the wood, sending splinters and pieces of board flying in every direction. When he looked up again she was already scurrying away to crumbling walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind was racing. Claudette was trying to remember what Meg and Nea told her. When she was getting tired, mind game the killers. Crumbling walls are your best friend. As long as you don't run and keep your cool you'll be fine. Only run when they're right behind you. You may be hit but a hit is worth it if it means your life. She went to a vaulting point. Making sure to crouch down out of sight. Claudette reached to her side and ripped some bandaging off. She threw it over the wall. He'd see it, she knows. That means he'd have to step over the opening in the window. And when he did that she'd make another break for it. She held her nose, trying to calm her breathing a bit. She'd have to stay calm if she wanted to make it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw the bandages on the ground. She definitely was here. They probably got ripped as she vaulted over the window. The poor girl had no idea how easy she was making this for him. It was almost unfair. Michael stepped over the opening, his monstrous foot slamming down right beside his prey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette anticipated this. She took a used syringe and jammed it into his leg. He grunted, loud, the unexpected pain causing him to slam his head against the top of the opening. Blood gushed out his forehead, pain throbbing, his cheeks painted in his own blood. He retracted his foot from the opening, bending down to pull the instrument from his leg. She was smarter than she looked. He was at a disadvantage for once. His prey knew more about him than he knew about them. True, he encountered her countless times but it was usually near the end of trials. She was always the last one alive. She either died on a hook and was left abandoned by her team or managed to escape and all he would see would be her sprinting to freedom. There were times, very few, in which the entity would claim her or she'd bleed out before he could find her and hook her. So far he only knew that she was quiet, stealthy, the most proficient at treating wounds, and now, she was craftier than she seemed. He wouldn't be able to rely on her "little gifts'' she left behind. He would have to track her the old fashioned way. Her scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how each person tried to hide it, everyone had a scent. And hers was as distinctive as Lauries. Laurie was like this sister, bubblegum chapstick with some other flavor. This botanist, she reeked of nature. In her, all he could smell were those flowers the nurses got around him at the sanitorium. They'd laugh and giggle about all the overgrown weeds their suiters would send them. They were all annoying and impossibly vapid, shallow, easy targets that he couldn't get to. Because no matter how much he loathed their incessant chattering, he valued the fact they left him alone more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, a few had tried to seduce him, apparently they thought that his appetite for murder was “sexy”. He had even been described by a few of the nurses as being a waste of good looks. There were even times when they were so bold as to flash their garments at him. But he had no real interest in them like he didn’t have much interest in much anything besides killing his sister. He didn’t need or want their company. The only ones he wanted to talk to were the voices that instructed him. Those were the only ones that mattered. But he seldom heard them in here. Here they were quiet. The most he heard out of them since killing Judith was back at the sanitorium during his sessions with Dr. Loomis. But it was the taunts more than anything towards Loomis about how he would never get the one thing he’d probably kill for. To hear Michael speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael could speak, he just chose not to. There was no point. Most people talked about pointless things anyway so why waste the energy. When he tried to speak and tell his parents about the voices they brushed it off as being a phase he’d grow out of it and it was nothing more than him having imaginary friends. They insisted that if he just made friends like a normal little boy that his "friends" would go away. Boy had they been wrong. Now he was here, moved from one hellish landscape to one slightly better. He no longer had to worry about trivial things like visits from doctors, eating, or tuning out nonsense from irritating chattering nurses. He could kill more freely, and the voices weren’t as unpleasant as before. They seemed to have calmed down and only became agitated when he was faced with Laurie. But that was to be expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood still, sniffing the air. He could smell sweat and spandex. That was the redhead coming from the north. He smelled ink and sweat in the same direction. That was the scary one. He continued to sniff. To his left were blood, decay, heavy antiseptic, and alcohol. That was the cocky one who he just killed. But still, he couldn’t smell plants. Correction. He could smell plants, and that was the issue. There were plants all around him and that made her hard to pinpoint. He smirked to himself. She would be truly interesting prey. He decided to go into the building of the ironworks of misery. If she was there, she’d be easy to locate. The scent of plants would stick out easily among the charred coal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped into the plant, the repugnant stench of iron, rust, coal, decay, heavy in the air. He inhaled. Cotton and blood filled his nose but no flowers. That meant she had been inside mending her friends. Smart woman, getting out of the open. But not smart enough, if she was still here he’d sniff her out. He looked around, carefully surveying the area. There were no blood spots on the floor. The entity had already taken its fill. That meant that they were long gone from here. He went upstairs, listening for anything, breathing, even the faintest whimper. He strained to listen to nothing. Suddenly, he heard the mindless whispers of the entity singing in his ear. There was someone here. Someone close. He continued, going outside, that’s when he saw her. She stood on the staircase, staring at him. Her eyes determined. A generator popped. There were only two left that needed to be completed. Then, she turned and began to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael smirked. She was doing this on purpose. She knew she had his attention and she was playing it to her advantage. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much run with a victim. Even as annoying as Dr. Loomis was, he had to admit he was a breath of fresh air when it came to a battle of wits. No matter how little Michael gave him, he always saw right through his facade. It was him who had figured out Michael could speak. He'd heard his scoff at a nurse one day and made a sour face because she had no idea how to draw blood. From that moment on, he was obsessed to prove to others that he wasn’t as dimwitted as others thought him to be. He had to give it to the old man, he was persistent. And there were times when he felt amused enough to throw the old man a bone. But where would be the fun in that? But now Michael had new prey to toy with. Someone more like himself. Someone quiet, of few words, that led others to believe there wasn’t much to them but held so many unknown secrets below their surface. Someone else who understood the power in secrecy and keeping your mouth shut above all else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her run, jumping from the ledge. Now there was a surprise. He hadn’t pegged her as the type to do something so bold. She landed, letting out an audible grunt of pain. Michael stood on the ledge just watching her. She looked back, watching him. Her eyes challenging him to continue their little game of cat and mouse. She wanted his undivided attention, and she was about to get it. Michael stepped off of the ledge, unafraid of the ground below. Before he made contact with the ground he heard the pitter-patter of her feet leading him towards one direction. That meant her friends were in the other. He opted to go for them, that way he and the botanist wouldn’t be interrupted during their game. He began stalking towards a tree that had a generator next to it. He could hear and see the pistons moving, Only two. The generator blew, and that split second was all he needed. The scared one had seen him and went running. But he was too slow and found himself in Myers grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael didn’t have time to waste on him. He wanted to get back to the real game. Unceremoniously he slashed the man from his heart, across his chest, down his stomach, to his side. His intestines falling out. Michael tossed the man aside. One more to go. The last time he had seen the redhead she was hurt, meaning that she would be less annoying and outgoing. He brought a jagged knife this time, so wounds were deep, and his blade mangled his victims on the way out. He needed to find them fast. Them and the hatch. He wanted no chance to escape. He needed to play with this one for a bit longer. Such fun had eluded him since his reign in Haddonfield and he cursed himself for not seeking out this sooner. He admits he had simply written her off as another annoying nurse type. Oh, how wrong he was. Calling her another annoying candy-striped volunteer did little to describe how much she held his interest. She was just as annoying but in different ways. It wasn't her laugh, or trashy makeup, or horrid perfume that made his blood boil. It was her incessant need to care for others, to put herself in harm's way, to do everything in her power to piss him off by undoing all of his hard work. Pain and death were the only absolutes he knew for certain and her mere existence challenged that. Michael didn't like being challenged. Because being challenged meant being bothered with others, and he loathed being bothered with others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette was shaking, to put it mildly. Her nerves were fried. That’s why when she ran and stumbled over Dwight’s lifeless body it honestly scared her, as Nea put it, shitless. She had to bite down hard on her hand covering her mouth not to let out a scream. She could put on a front before the killer but when it came to being alone, she was terrified. She had to find Meg. That was her only mission, finding Meg and giving her the key that she had stashed away in her trusty med-kit. She was looking for a sign from Meg, anything, but she knew it would be impossible. the others never left clues of their whereabouts when The Shape was involved. It was too risky. He was just too good at tracking them down. The only way she’d find Meg was by-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blood-curdling scream cut through the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claudette’s eyes welled up. She was the only person left. On the bright side, she had a key, but she had no idea where the hatch was. She hadn’t been paying attention while she was being chased and running around in reckless abandon against The Shape was suicide. But she had no choice, Claudette had to at least try and if she died, at least she’d finally know what it felt like to die by his hand. Swiftly, she moved through the crumbling decaying building of McMillian estate. she strained her ears, listening for the hatch. Even if she didn’t get it before him, she’d at least then have an idea of where it could be. It was silent, no familiar hum of the hatch pierced the silence. There were no footsteps lined with the usual crunch of certainty. There wasn’t even faint laughter of madness in the air heard from many of the killers. There was nothing, and that’s what terrified her the most. Nothing was always more terrifying than the certainty of what was waiting. She was about to round another corner near the main building when Claudette felt herself be yanked from behind into a pair of strong arms. Her blood ran cold, hairs standing tall on the back of her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was caught in his grasp and had nowhere to go. Claudette’s mind screamed at her to thrash around, to fight, kick, to do something. But her body refused to move. It was ignoring her most primal instinct in favor of another one. Her empathy. It was both a blessing and a curse. Her strong sense of care for others allowed her to become a haven for everyone in the real, both killers and survivors alike, to vent their problems, and despite how tightly Claudette was being gripped by this mad man, she was compelled to turn around and look him in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It burned, it burned like hell. Her big brown doe eyes burned his flesh raw. Michael snapped, slamming her against the wall with her left hand in tow. The voices in his mind cooed, “kill her, make her bleed, suffer, agony, slow the torture.” She continued to stare at him, her eyes unrelenting in their quest to pierce his soul. It wouldn’t work on him. It could work on everyone else except him. He wouldn’t allow himself to be overtaken by this woman. She had wormed her way into everyone else’s lives, but he’d be damned if she’d ruin his solitude. He’d put a stop to this immediately. He grabbed her by her neck, raising her off the ground. She didn’t fight, the moxy in her had gone out. Good. It was annoying and the sooner he made sure she knew her place as his prey so Michael could go back to his solitude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette clawed at her throat, desperately trying to get The Shape off of her. She couldn’t breathe, her windpipe being crushed like an insect. She tried to shut her eyes and look away but she didn’t have the strength left to force her body to do anything more than simply suffer and wait for the sweet release of death. Tears began to flow from her, dripping down the side of her face, mixing with blood as it pooled from her mouth, a clear sign of his handy work. Her eyes began to fade, glossing over with each passing moment until finally, they held no light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael dropped her to the ground, still watching as the entity consumed her lifeless body never once breaking his gaze into her soul.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jake sat in a small clearing waiting for Claudette to arrive. Meg and Dwight had already returned but Claudette was taking a while. Jake sighed, staring down at his wood carving, he hoped that meant Claudette was able to escape. She had pretty good luck against The Shape because of her height. Jake let out another sigh as he went back to carving out another wooden bowl for Claudette to mix salves in. He lifted his shirt to reinspect his torso for the umpteenth time since he was dropped in the clearing. It still hadn’t changed. Ugly purple, blue, black crusted with yellowing dead skin streaked with red lines from where he had been stabbed. For all intents and purposes, he technically was healed, but it just hurt like hell. But that’s what the entity did. It healed you up just enough to function but left the pain it feasted on behind. The only thing good about it was the longer you were in pain the more time you had before your next trial usually. Sometimes, if the pain you felt was too good it would greedily feed off of it for multiple trials until it had no choice except to let you go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake continued to carve into his bowl. Each groove replacing one that a killer had bore into his memory. He let out an audible sigh, head tilting back to look into the darkness that resembled an abyss more than a night sky.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope she made it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake’s worry continued to fill the silence with the steady sound of a knife on wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe she got pulled right back into another trial? The entity was known to pull them right back into another trial if they managed to escape one. It never liked having its killers be made a fool of. Jake could only hope. But that meant she had been pulled into another trial without him and that seemed even more torturous. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when he saw the mist roll in, but he didn’t see anyone walking. Jake got up and went over to check what it had left. Sometimes the mist left presents, offerings, and even books on killers. But this time, it left Claudette. Jake knelt down, gently pulling her onto his knees . She was out cold. Her neck, ugly with bruises. Carefully, Jake lifted her shirt, just enough to see her stomach. There were no scars, bruising, or discoloration, meaning he had only choked her out. He wanted to feel the life leave her body. Gently, Jake moved her loose dreads that were covering her neck and sure enough, he saw the bruising and swelling. No doubt she wouldn’t be back in trials for awhile. She probably could barely speak, much like the last time it happened with the Trapper when he had picked her up and flung her into a tree, breaking her spine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette shifted under him, reaching out her hand for someone to grab it. She spoke, her voice raspy, muddy brown eyes staring at the person over her, blurry vision shifting back into focus.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“J-J-Jake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long pause, then Jake spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So-rry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette held his face as she closed her eyes shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen eventually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette swallowed hard, coating her throat. Jake reached in his pocket and pulled a tiny jar of putrid serum. He lifted the jar to her lips. It tasted horrible, but the effects of it were worth it. She swallowed no more than a palm’s full but she could feel the bruising of her throat healing almost instantly. Jake bent his head down, touching his forehead with hers, moving his hand to interlace with the one that rested on his face. Jake spoke, his voice hushed and quieter than normal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t help. He took it out on you because of how much you patched me up that trial. We know that he hates when we patch up but I abused that to catch his attention and got you involved.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not just going to sit by and let you all bleed to death when I can help. I’m not going to let anyone just sit there in pain if I can help” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake scoffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know Morel, you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days trying to save everyone else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette laughed, a fit of coughing soon followed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-don’t make me laugh after a rough trial. It hurts t-too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if you learned to stop causing trouble, killers would leave you alone”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry but who was the one who broke every hook he tried to place me on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I not supposed to save your life?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette sat up, arm shaking as she held herself up to lay against Jake’s chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You saved my life? I didn’t know you healed yourself all that trial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, not every hero is a doctor, some of us are soldiers in the trenches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who fixes up those soldiers in the trenches?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touche’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stayed like that for a while. Just simply breathing and enjoying each other’s company. It was a pleasant feeling, being able to be around someone without them feeling the need to chatter about nothing and fill the air. That’s a luxury Jake was not afforded in his old life before he fled to the woods. Every exchange was a strategy, every conversation a ploy, every party, jog, charity a secret alliance. Nothing could be said or not said without having another meaning being it that never changed no matter how favorable the circumstances seemed. Being able to just simply exist is what Jake craved most. And being able to exist next to someone else is a treasure he never thought he’d possess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carefully, Jake wrapped his arms around Claudette, pulling her more into his lap, burying his head in her right shoulder. Claudette wrapped her hands around his arms, further securing herself in. She swallowed and spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They remained like that for a bit longer until it was finally Jake who decided it was time for them to get to camp. He knew if Claudette didn’t return soon along with him, the others would come looking for them and he didn’t want that. He didn’t care that others knew he spent time with Claudette, that was no secret. But he didn’t want others to intrude on his alone time with the one person he knew he could be around and just be himself.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake got up, pulling Claudette up with him, holding her steady as they began to walk toward camp. The trek back was slow, but Jake didn’t mind, it gave him more to be in silence with her. As they continued to walk back to camp Claudette whimpered in pain with each step. She managed to hold in most of her groans like Jake showed her but she still wasn’t as good as Jake with no making sounds or disturbing things in the forest or trials. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was after their first-ever trial when he had taught her. Claudette had secluded herself into the woods as to not disturb the other survivors with her whimpering. It was Jake that had heard her from below his tree. He hadn’t said much, only handed her a cloth and told her she can use it to muffle her cries. In exchange, she had told him what basic herbs to use and mix together to better heal the cuts on his face in case he was hurt and didn’t want to be bothered with anyone. In retrospect, he admits that he had done it out of annoyance and a desire to be left alone. But he was fortunate that she hadn’t taken it that way, otherwise, he would have still been alone in these woods with no one to truly confide in. That’s how the seeds of their companionship started. Watered with the blood, tears, and sweat of their countless trial. They knew that if the other was near things would usually go much better. Not this time though. Their partnership had worked against them and it was taking its toll mostly on Claudette. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake continued to think, his mind wondering about what he could have done differently in the trial. Not pissing off such a ruthless killer for one was a start. Making sure Claudette had a sure out wad another. He realizes he shouldn't have been found so soon by The Shape after she patched him up. That put her in a lot of danger as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette's voice broke through his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatcha thinking about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just the trial. About what could have gone differently."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh… well, I know I could have done a better job with your stitching, I've just been so tired lately."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey don't blame yourself mushroom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then you shouldn't have told me your last name was a type of mushroom. Besides, it suits you. You do kind of look like a mushroom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I look nothing like a morchella esculenta."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, how do they look?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How does what look?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Kate, standing near the edge of the camping grounds with firewood in her arms. Jake stopped, glaring at the woman, and then spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette looked to Jake who had clammed up after answering Kate's question. She was the latest survivor to join the group. Nervously, she looked between Jake and Kate trying to figure out what you say to ease the tension. Jake was the first to speak up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I need to get you to bed so you can rest." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can help!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've got it. Thanks though Kate."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They continued to walk, strolling under the dilapidated sign that read, “Welcome to the Circus” in place of the usual, “Campgrounds” board. The Entity changed up the campgrounds when a new killer was joining them. It also changed the grounds for Summer, Halloween, Winter, and the anniversary of when Jake, Claudette, Dwight, and Meg had been dropped into the realm. They were the first to become a part of this hellish nightmare.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake pulled Claudette along to her camper. It had been a warm welcome from the tents they first had when they first arrived. Survivors usually got campers once they settled in or when the Entity drenched them in blood. Whatever came first. Eventually, everyone received one, filled with things that reminded them of their life before this. They didn't have to walk far for their campers. They were near the entrance, yet still a ways away from the main campfire. Jake swung open the old rickety wooden gate, the hinges letting out a loud creak in protest. Jake grabbed Claudette a bit closer to ensure she didn't slip on the gravel path leading to her door. As she hobbled, he took note of the plants in her garden. A few were oozing putrid serum. Claudette spoke suddenly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They're almost ready. Just 2 or 3 more trials and they'll be at the perfect stage to harvest them so we can get the most out of it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll help you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they approached the soft yellow trailer painted with the various flowers Claudette had painted on it Jake swept his arms under her knees and carried her up the steps. Claudette clung to his neck so she didn't fall. Carefully, he opened the door with his hand under her knees, reaching for the handle to swing it open and catch under his boot. He took her inside, kicking the wooden door closed behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside Kate watched the entire scene unfold. Dwight came up to Kate, tapping her on the shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"H-Hey Kate."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey! Dwight right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah...What are you doing out here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was going to help Claudette get to her trailer but I think I interrupted her alone time with her boyfriend."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Boyfriend?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From behind they heard a hearty laugh erupt. it was David slapping them on their shoulders, ushering them towards the fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Trust me when I say they ain't a couple."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I saw-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know what ya saw but trust me when I say Jakey boy won't make his move and Claudey is too much of a lady to approach him. Maybe one day he'll grow a pair and say what he's thinking."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dwight interjected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't see Jake doing that. He's just so quiet." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're one to talk. You're a regular ole mouse if I ever saw one." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am not. You can't be quiet and a leader."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The only thing you're leading is the rats. A regular ole pied piper."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kate laughed, nearly dropping the wood in her feet. David saw and began laughing as well.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>~***~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They're lively tonight."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake drew the curtains back, turning to look at Claudette for her response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's good they're getting along. Making friends here is always worth it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake laid down on top of the comforter, arms crossed behind his head, comfortable in what the entity had him in. It was his usual outfit, the one he wore when he first arrived so his layers were more than enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette ran her fingers over the purple floral print comforter that sported leaf shapes. Her mother had got it as a gift for her when she made it to high school. It held the memories of many sleepless nights spent lounging around and watching nature documentaries she rented from the library on various flora. That first Summer she laid in bed and listened to the songs her father had put together for her. He said It would help her mind think. She didn't know how true it was but she found comfort in the familiar tunes she'd hear as she looked through her mom's Home and Gardens magazines trying to sketch all of the beautiful plants she saw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette turned to look back at Jake. His eyes closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You could be nicer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will once she understands how to be less noisy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's friendly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's obnoxious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You talk to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't talk about useless things and you appreciate silence."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them sat in silence. Claudette laid down next to Jake and closed her eyes, letting her tiredness take over and fling her into a deep sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Night Dette."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Night Jakey."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, Kate brought firewood over to the fire, tossing a few pieces in then sitting down next to Dwight. She leaned back again a log, looking up to the endless night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all sat around the fire, Kate periodically poked it with a stick. Dwight thumbed through his journal while David practiced punching the air in front of him moving side to side. It was quiet. Tapp, Quentin, Feng, and Laurie were in a trial. Bill and Ace were in Bill's trailer playing cards, and Nea was tucked away in her trailer. Everyone was enjoying the stillness of the realm. Occasionally, the night lent sounds of ambiance mixed with terror in the form of the whos of night owls coupled with screams. It was a particularly loud scream that woke Claudette up from her sleep, startling Jake in the process, his voice dripping with concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, a scream woke me up. I’m fine. Just thought I got pulled into a trial and slept through part of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to be sorry. Scoot over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jake pulled himself further up in bed, moving closer to Claudette. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on you know the drill.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette situated herself under the covers and scooted over to Jake. She buried her head in Jake’s chest, his arms wrapped around her back, encircling her in her blanket, providing much-needed security. They readjusted in bed. Claudette inhaled, taking in all the scents of Jake, then exhaled as a few tears started to flow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it ever get better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Probably not, but we can do things to make it better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This. Be here for each other.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a long silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Jake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes mushroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise you’ll help me collect the plants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as I’m not in a trial, sure. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in Haddonfield Michael had been returned to his room in the sanitorium. Usually, the entity would drop him here, leaving him to explore all of the town of Haddonfield. He liked this better. Haddonfield without all of the annoying people around. He preferred the quiet unless it was Halloween. Halloween was the one time of the year you were supposed to be around others to scare them. He walked through the dilapidated halls fresh with worn paint and peeling tiles in the floor, the stench of antiseptic that never seemed to leave mixed in the air with decay and the sweet rot of death. Making his way out of the sanatorium into the courtyard, all was still. Nothing to be heard nor said. Michael sat down on a rusting iron bench and listened to the stillness. His voices were resting and the entity didn’t coo in his ear trying to provoke him. He had done well so he would be left alone for a while. That’s what it always did, it provoked them until they were left with no choice but to release that rage in a trial. Michael hated it, losing control. Losing control, even a bit, is what had cost him his eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still remembered that day Laurie had taken it out. He could kill her five times over for that. Michael wasn’t hung up on appearances, in fact, if it hadn’t been for Loomis insisting he kept his hair cut Michael would have never looked in his reflection. Appearances didn’t matter. He only hated his ghost eye because when it ached the voices in his head seemed to get louder. It was like they were calling out for vengeance for his eye. Unconsciously Michael touched his hand to his ghost eye and held it there, almost like he was waiting for it to throb in agreement, but it just sat there, almost dormant, in its response. Micahel turned his head around, looking at the scenery he had already stared at countless times before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weeds, vines, rusted wheelchairs, old broken carts with empty medicine containers, Missing chairs from within the courtyard, bricks in decaying walls. Michael continued to turn his head until his eyes laid on the old clock that never seemed to work. Its hands were stuck on 8:42, the time Judith took her last breath. Michael sat and stared at the clock waiting for movements that would never come. He knew the clock would never move no matter how much he stared at it. Yet, it somehow brought him a strange comfort knowing that it was a constant in his now constantly changing life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael would be the first to admit to himself that he didn’t like much change in life. If a way worked why mess with it. Change, he understood, was unavoidable. Sometimes things happened. He had to admit was like his mother in that way. She believed that there was no need to mess with a good thing while his father was a firm believer that things could always be improved. That was one thing Michael could never understand no matter how hard he tried. He never truly got why things had to change for the sake of saying things had changed. Change without real purpose was just a waste in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Michael got up from the bench and moved to the far east corner of the courtyard. In it was a small garden used for other patients much like himself. Murderers. It was some form of therapy that believed that they can understand life if they grew life. The problem isn’t that Michael didn’t understand life. He did, perfectly well. He knew about sex, where babies came from, how life was fragile. That didn’t make the voices in his head any less quiet despite his understanding. He bent down, staring into the dirt. Nothing was there. It was completely devoid of life like everything else in this place. That was fine by him. At least it was another constant he could depend on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some hours later Claudette woke up in a daze, sleep heavy in her eyes. She looked around for Jake but couldn’t find him. He had probably been pulled into another trial or went to the woods to find things. Claudette sat up in her bed, legs swinging off the side in front of her under the bed storage shelves that held many offerings. She was one of the ones who had been there the longest so the entity rewarded her with many gifts. Some brought back from trials, others in exchange for tasks done for the entity. All had a purpose no matter how small. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She got down, from her high-rise bed and turned immediately to her desk on the wall under the window. It was littered with plants, samples, and scrap papers from her journals about the flora in the realm that she had made for the others when they asked. She was currently examining a new species of kanker blight she had stumbled across. Or at least that’s what she called it. The plants in this world did resemble plants of her own world, except they were all carnivorous in some form and with appendages that protruded and behaved like arachnids.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette had taken a budding sample to examine the plant as it grew. She learned the first time that harvesting the plant resulted in it immediately perished and turning into an ash rot mixture of sorts. However, the substance had proved to be vital in speeding up the healing process, even if it did smell horrible. She reached above her head for a bowl and brought down one she hadn’t seen before. A smile bloomed across her face, she knew it was Jake that had made her yet another mortar for grinding up herbs in. She took her pestle and got to work. Their dressings were running low and she wanted to try out her new mixture before the next trial. If she had done it right, it should cool the burning sensation commonplace when you were being stabbed and hooked. Instinctively Claudette rubbed her throat. The pain had lessened with sleep like it usually did, but she could tell from the way her fingers trailed over raised skin that the bruises were still here. She shook her head, trying to focus on her work, but there was a knock at the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She called to the door,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Claudette, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Hey Kate. What can I do for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of the other guys said I should come to you for supplies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah, one second.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Placing the bowl down, she wiped her hands on her apron that hung up over her work area and got up to reach in the area above her window. Standing on the stool she was just sitting on, reaching over her desk to pull down some of the more common offerings she had stashed away. There was a large glass jar full of tiny primroses. Primroses were the most common find for Claudette so she had plenty to spare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind, look in those cabinets next to my kitchen area and get some of the medical supplies inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Kate turned around and looked at the rusted sink, the tiles on the counter littered with bowls, plants, and utensils. They all seemed to be handmade. She reached her hand out to the cupboard that ran floor to ceiling next to the area. When she opened it she was met with rolls of gauze, salves, jays filled with some strange liquid, and small glass bottles of different sizes. Some were empty, others full, many half used. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m pretty much the doctor around here. If you stop by sometimes I’ll help you learn how to patch yourself up during a trial even when you don't have anything on hand using flora in the area.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, I would like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette placed the jar in Kate’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I just bring this in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. You make satchels. Come over here I’ll show you how.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette sat down on her bed and motioned for Kate to have a seat on the stool, the jar in her lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take out a few petals along with that leather in that open draw behind you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kate did as she was told. Taking time to rub her slender fingers across the light pink tinted material.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Honestly? Probably skin."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flinched, throwing the material to the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Skin?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It came from one of the blighted plants found here. Before you harvest then they have these pockets that resemble boils. The pulse-like they have a heartbeat and have roots that beat like a heart with vein-like roots to match that run through the plant completely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's disgusting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Most of nature is disgusting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not flowers. Flowers are supposed to be pretty and smell nice. The flowers my mom grew always smelled nice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, not all flowers are meant to be beautiful. A lot of them resemble the purpose they serve and their usefulness is not for looks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing, just hand me a sheet of leather so I can show you how to bundle your offering together properly so it doesn't get ruined."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quite sometime later everyone was gathered around the campfire swapping of their latest trials. David as usual was acting out how he annoyed the killers, frequently giving Dwight a hard time for not showing more gusto. Bill and Ace were cracking up at David, saying they remembered when they were that young and reckless. Amid everyone listening, Quentin had fallen asleep. It was of course Nea who took it upon herself to wake him up by sloshing a bucket of cold water over his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks...Nea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you asked me to keep you awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m definitely awake now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudette got up and walked over to her trailer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry Quentin I’ll get you some tea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Opening her trailer Claudette searched for the petals she found frequently throughout the forest surrounding the camp. After much trial and error, she finally managed to dry out the leaves without them completely disintegrating when she plucked them from their stems. She was humming along happily to a tune that had no real origin when the mist arrived. It paralyzed her. She was reentering a trial so soon after what happened meant she had irked the entity if it wasn’t letting her heal properly. And if Jake wasn’t there, then it would be hell. The door creaked open, causing her to turn towards the sound. It was Jake. But he looked fine, none of the mist of the entity covered him. He wasn’t going this time. Claudette would be alone this trial. Jake reached out and touched her hand with his own, shoving something into it that she couldn’t register, the mist too thick in her mind. Whatever it was, Claudette hoped that it did some good. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'll leave author's notes and just move all of them to a single chapter once the story is done so I don't disturb anyone's reading. To anyone that noticed me accidentally post 4 extra chapters much out of order shuuuush you saw nothing. Also apologizes if it spammed anyone's inbox. You all got to see a first-hand account of my dyscalculia (dyslexia with numbers) and that's a big reason I will be doing author's notes. The chapters were just confusing me too badly.  And once again to the people who may have accidentally seen spoilers sorry and you saw nothing. Tags have been updated to better reflect the current direction of the story. Please review them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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